


Something Round and Golden

by muttthecowcat22



Series: Yuri on Ice Oneshots [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode 9, Fluff, For the most part, M/M, One Shot, POV focus on Yuuri, Wedding Rings, episode 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 08:43:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9064618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muttthecowcat22/pseuds/muttthecowcat22
Summary: How Yuuri ends up mistaking a wedding ring for a "lucky charm" and what he is actually thinking before, during, and after he buys it.
Also, how Yuuri accidentally plans everything beforehand.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I actually had to perform a little bit of research (which consisted of a few quick google searches) to be able to write this one shot. I only know about as much as Yuuri does about the topics that he googles, so please take all information regarding weddings in Russia, European ring sizes, and ring shopping in Barcelona with a grain of salt.
> 
> I'm really sad that the series ended. I can't wait for season 2!
> 
> Merry Christmas, or any other holiday you celebrated! And Happy New Year!

The snow floated down, forcefully yet silently, across the window and into the night, out of Yuuri’s frame of vision.  He could count the times on his fingers that he had ever seen snow like this, so relentless and unending.  It dampened everything, the street, the busy city beneath him, into a silent dream.  The snow reflected the veiled blue light of the moon into Yuuri’s room, throwing odd shadows across the floor.  And Yuuri lay awake in his bed, staring alternately out of the window and straight up at the ceiling.

 He couldn’t sleep; his mind crossed and recrossed his free skate program for the Rostelecom Cup which he would skate the coming day: the movements and music that he loved and the high level jumps that he normally failed.  How had he ever thought that he might actually do well in this competition?  He could never compare to the other skaters, like J. J., who could land all their jumps with the same style that he worked so hard to put into just his technical elements.  His stomach began to knot: he would have to skate the next day, alone, knowing that he could never compare to the other skaters, knowing that he would only embarrass himself.  He no longer knew if he could physically force himself to even step onto the rink.  He could see the people laughing at him after his performance, thinking how stupid he was for trying to be something that . . . well . . . he just wasn’t.  He didn’t think he could do it.

 But Victor did.  Victor thought that he could do it.  Victor thought he was good enough.

 Yuuri held on to this thought to keep himself from breaking into tears, from curling up on his bed and completely shutting out the world and the next day.  More than anything, he just wanted to ignore it and go home.  But, he also desperately wanted to win, because he loved it, because he had worked so hard and so long for it . . . because Victor wanted him to win.

 He rolled onto his stomach.  Yes, Victor wanted him to win; Victor believed that he could win.  So, Yuuri could, he could believe it too, if only just a little.

 Yuuri had seen Victor off to the airport earlier that afternoon.  He didn’t regret it.  Makkachin’s life had been essential to Victor for so long:  Yuuri didn’t want Victor to ignore one of the few true bonds in his life.  He knew Victor would have regretted it, just like he regretted some of his own decisions.  He wondered if Victor regretted things in the same way that he did.  Yuuri didn’t think so.  He didn’t want Victor to feel that; he never wanted Victor to feel most of the things that he felt on a daily basis . . .

 Yuuri sat up in bed.  He couldn’t do this anymore.  If he was going to do well, he needed a rested mind and body for the next day.  He needed something to take his mind off of the free skate program.  He tried to think of a list of things that could keep him mentally active instead. 

 Victor’s birthday was coming up in December.  Maybe he could search for possible birthday gifts.

 Hmm . . . what should he get Victor?  He liked expensive things, name brands.  But, Yuri had to be realistic about what he could actually afford.  Maybe Victor would like another jar of that Chanel lip balm? But, he probably already owned several backup jars.  Ooo . . . maybe he could get Victor something in Barcelona? . . . If he actually made it to Barcelona, but he wasn’t going to think about that right now. . .  It wouldn’t hurt to look for ideas online anyways.  Right?

 He googled _gifts in Barcelona_. 

 At first, several artistic choices, such as paintings of the city and Gaudi’s architecture appeared, a spectrum of bright colors dancing on the screen. But, Victor didn’t really seem to like those kinds of gifts, or at least Yuri hadn’t seen anything like that in his room.  Then, as he scrolled down, more and more jewelry shops began appearing.  Was there anything that he could get for Victor in a jewelry store?  It seemed more in line with Victor’s personality, certainly.  Maybe a watch?

 Yuuri began scrolling through the watch page on the website of a store called The Diamond Palace.  He scrolled past maybe fifty watches before finding one that he thought looked like Victor.  It was gold, but plain. A white face beneath a pair of golden hands.  For some reason the simplicity of the design deeply reminded Yuuri of Victor.  The band was made from plane brown leather.

 Then, Yuri looked at the price tag.  Wow!  Maybe it was the gold or leather, but he could never afford that.  Hmm . . . he still felt like some kind of jewelry was the way to go.  Maybe something smaller would be more affordable.  He looked back up at the labels at the top of the screen: watches, earrings, necklaces, rings, and bracelets.  Rings were the smallest by far.  He clicked on the ring page but didn’t see anything that looked like Victor.  So he clicked back to his search and began to scroll through images.

 Thin rings, thick rings, gold, silver.  Some were carved with intricate patterns.  Some embedded with jewels, others not. 

 One ring literately shone off the page, dampening the image of all the others.  Yuuri couldn’t tell if the brilliant gold shine of the ring was an effect of the lighting or his screen resolution, but he clicked the link anyway.  It was from a store called Maria Dolores.  He clicked again and began scrolling through all the available rings on the website.

 There wasn’t nearly as large a selection at this store compared to the other one, but Yuuri saw it nearly immediately.  It was a bright golden ring, perfectly round and simple.  The sides were smooth and shiny, plain yet elegant enough for Victor’s taste.  No stones adorned the ring, just simple and pure gold.  Yuuri knew this was the gift that he was looking for, but he still needed to check the price tag.  He mentally prepared himself for yet another let down.

 . . . But, his mind lingered, instead of looking at the price first, maybe to just put off the inevitable, he tried to read the name of the ring design.  It was written in another language: probably Spanish, _la alianza de boda de oro_.  He copied the words into Google translate.

  _Golden wedding band._

 Huh . . . . . ?

  **Golden wedding band.** The words stood off the page in dark letters. 

Yuuri slammed the laptop shut and recoiled onto the headboard of his bed.  What was he supposed to do with a _golden wedding band_?  Another question entered his mind before he could stop it:  _Give it to Victor?_

 No no no no no; No way would he ever get any sleep now.  He had had no idea that he was looking at wedding rings!  He suddenly felt very stupid; even more stupid than he had felt before.  What other kind of ring would be smooth and golden?  So, so stupid.  Ugh.

 So, Channel lip balm it was, then.  Now that he absolutely couldn’t sleep, maybe he should go on and order it. 

 Hmm, why was all the Channel lip balm on backorder?  Apparently, it had sold out sometime after the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship and had been on backorder ever since.  But, a few of the stores in Barcelona apparently still had some in stock.  He could just buy it there . . . if he ever made it there, but, once again, he wasn’t going to think about that.

 But, what if Russians didn’t wear golden wedding rings . . . well, for weddings, anyways.  Yuuri didn’t know; maybe they wore different kinds of rings or bracelets or something else instead.  Maybe he could still give Victor the ring after all . . .

 He typed _Russian wedding rings_ into the search bar.

 No, they definitely wore golden wedding rings - _click_ \- on their right hands - _click_ \- in elaborate churches - _click_ \- while also wearing golden crowns? - _click_ \- and holding candles - _click, click, click_ \- in weddings that lasted two days because there was so much food and drinking and dancing.  Wow.

 Yuuri buzzed with nerves.  He glanced at his phone: 3:30, he really needed to go to sleep, but his self-restraint had been exhausted a while ago.  He decided to make one more search before lying down.

 He typed _churches in Barcelona_ into the search bar. _Click_ \- images - _click_ \- the beautiful cathedrals of Barcelona spread as a collage over his screen.  The unique masterpiece of the Sagrada Familia, the open structure of Santa Maria del Mar, the beautiful antique detail of the Catedral de Barcelona.  He especially loved the Barcelona Cathedral: its age accenting every stone with darkness, its unique gardens, yes, even its doors were beautiful.   Its beauty seemed old as time, stretching for centuries, steady, unending, strong but delicate.

 Yuuri decided to go to sleep on that note, thinking how a very old stone building could very well beat his free skate program into the ground without even moving.

 

 ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 The cold, crisp air whipped at Yuuri’s face as he moved through the crowded street in Barcelona.  The lanterns hanging above his head and the brightly colored Christmas decorations cast a warm glow on the many small outdoor shops along the street.

 He looked to his right: Victor seemed cool as well, still slightly irritated; his face showed no emotion.  Although, Yuuri had to admit, he really had no idea how Victor felt.  His long dark coat was unbuttoned, so he must not be cold.  Perhaps, his irritation had faded completely, and he was simply deep in thought.  His fake smile had disappeared, at any rate.

 By this point, Yuuri knew that he had wasted their entire day since practice that morning.  He had convinced Victor to go shopping so that he could search for his present and, perhaps, gauge Victor’s response without giving it away.  Yuuri had indeed been able to get away for a few minutes to purchase a jar of Chanel lip balm.  It had been expensive, but Yuuri hadn’t reimbursed Victor in any way for being his coach for months.  No, if Yuuri was going to be honest with himself, he knew that getting Victor a present had nothing to do with coaching or a birthday.  He felt so many things for Victor, but he also felt inadequate to express them in words.  Yuuri hoped that he could get across at least some of them with a present. 

 Thanks . . . hope . . . yes, he would like to give Victor hope.  That was his feeling. 

 He had stuffed the lip balm into one of the other relatively unimportant bags that he was holding in an attempt to hide it from Victor, only to leave said bag on a bench in the middle of Barcelona, never to be seen again.

 And now: Yuuri had wasted their day, Victor was irritated or at least uncommunicative, and he still didn’t have a gift.  His eyes flitted between all the brightly colored Christmas souvenirs in the stands on their left and right.  None of them looked like anything Victor would want.  He _had_ to get him a gift, though, right then, right at that moment.  Yuuri needed to give Victor something, anything, before . . . before it was over, before everything ended.  He was at the Grand Prix Final, the end, his ultimatum. 

 “Umm, Victor, your birthday is Christmas day, right?  What would you like for your gift?” asked Yuuri.  This was his final effort, ruining the surprise but saving the gift.

 “In Russia, we don’t celebrate before the actual birthday.  We don’t really celebrate Christmas either.”

 Huh, so maybe Victor was still a little irritated, then.  He obviously couldn’t see that Yuuri had determined to buy him a gift either way.  But still, why did he have to say that?  Yuuri should have asked about birthdays and Christmas a long time before, but he hadn’t.  There were still so many things that he didn’t know.  Yuuri felt himself becoming more desperate, grasping at air, anything that would prevent him from falling into the terror of his performance the next day, of disappointing Victor, of . . . well, the end, the end of his time with Victor.  He needed something, anything, to hold onto.

 They rounded a slight bend in the street, a few more stands stretching out in front of them, and then this too would be over.  That’s when Yuuri saw it for a second time.  At the end of the street, shining in bright silver letters: _Maria Dolores_.  Yuuri could feel his face growing hot as he stared at the sign; to his side, Victor’s blue eyes palpably scanned his expression.  Well, it was already too late anyway.  This was it; it was perfect.  He was doing this, here at the end, no holding back.  He ran up to the window of the shop, Victor trailing behind him.  There it was, the golden ring that he had seen online.  His computer screen had not lied to him: the golden shine of the ring was truly beautiful.

 “Victor, let’s go in this store!”  And with that, he grabbed Victor’s wrist and pulled him into the store, directly to the counter holding the entire selection of wedding rings.  The store itself was rather small and plain with whitewashed walls, but bright lights illuminated the jewelry under the counter, reflecting off the many colored stones, gold, and silver.  The light shone the most brightly off of the golden ring, his golden ring, or rather, Victor’s golden ring.  Yuuri’s head swam as he pointed the ring out to the sales clerk.  He no longer cared about the price; he would pay for it one way or another.  He was faintly aware of Victor standing just behind him, but he resisted the urge to turn around and actually look at Victor: doing so might crush his resolve.

 But wait, what was he actually doing anyway?  What was he _really_ doing?  He was buying a golden ring, a golden ring for Victor.  He was buying a golden wed . . . we . . w . . .  He couldn’t finish the sentence; he couldn’t even think about it.  That was so, so selfish and _so_ stupid.  How could he possibly ask Victor to stay with him for . . . forev . . . er?  He mentally cringed at the word, yet he had waited so long to say it, if only to himself.  His heart began to beat faster.  He could feel his face heating up much more than it had originally, but he beat it all down.  He beat it down into a tiny shadow that he might be able to ignore if he tried hard enough not to think about it. 

 It was preposterous of him to think that.  Victor’s life was worth so many things, but _that_ was not one of them.  Yuuri had already decided what would happen after the GPF; he had already decided what was the right thing to do.

 So if the ring wasn’t _that_ , then what was it?  He wanted to thank Victor for all his time, to give Victor hope, to have something that connected them during his performances.  He wanted to feel Victor’s hope also, while he danced on the ice the following day, scrutinized and alone.  A charm, a good luck charm.  That sounded stupid too.  Well, whatever . . . he couldn’t think straight anyways.  It was all he could come up with: a lucky charm, that was what it was.  He could handle that.

 “. . . . size?” the sales clerk’s light voice interrupted Yuuri’s train of thought.

 “Huh?”  Yuuri regretted the word as soon as he had said it.  It was rude after all; he waved his hands, trying to apologize.  The sales clerk merely brushed him off.

 “What size ring do you wear?” she repeated.  Her eyes briefly fluttered between Yuuri and Victor behind him, questioningly, “or would you like me to size one of you instead?”

 “Uhmmm . . . .”  At this question, not only Yuuri’s face, but also his ears and neck began to pool with heat.  He still couldn’t look at Victor.  Ugh, why hadn’t he thought of this before?

 “59.5 is my size, b-but that is in Russia.  I think my size here is 19.5.”  That was Victor’s voice; Yuuri thought he heard it waver.  At any rate, it sounded odd.  Yuuri supposed that response could be expected; he still had no idea what expression was on Victor’s face.  Was that shock or surprise in his voice?

 Finally, the clerk was handing Yuuri a small dark blue box and smiling away a goodbye.  Yuuri stuffed the box into his large coat pocket.  He grabbed Victor’s wrist again without looking at his face and pulled him back out of the store.  Victor tagged limply along after Yuuri.  Either he was dazed or merely content to play along with Yuuri’s whims; Yuuri gratefully accepted either notion. 

 Earlier that day, they had passed by the Barcelona Cathedral.  It was only a few blocks away from the jewelry store, and Yuuri, still frantic and determined, led Victor directly to it, his mind replaying the images of the Russian churches he had seen online.

 Disappointment filled Yuuri’s heart at the closed gates in front of the Cathedral.  Yet even at night, the scene remained beautiful, the stone and woodwork illuminated by a warm, timeless light.  Yuuri pulled Victor up the steps until they were nearly touching the gate.  He still had not glanced at Victor’s face.  Even when he turned to face Victor, he could only look at his hands.

 Yuuri pulled the blue box out of his pocket and removed the ring.  His eyes darted between each of Victor’s hands.  Which hand?  Which hand?  Russians wear their rings on their right hands, he remembered.  Wouldn’t Victor like that?  Well, might as well, Yuuri guessed there was no use in worrying too much over it at this point.  The situation was already too far gone.

 He began to lift Victor’s right hand.  But – wait – what was he doing here again?  His mind went completely blank.  What should he say?  Did he have to say anything?  _Stick with what you can handle._   That was his decision.  But, how was he ever supposed to get across what he actually meant?  He hoped Victor could understand this way.  He needed Victor to understand.

 Yuuri peeled the glove off of Victor’s hand and slid the ring onto Victor’s finger.  His hands were shaking the entire time; his nerves had finally caught up with him.  But—was Victor’s hand shaking as well?

 “Thank you for everything up to now.  I—I couldn’t think of something better.  But uhmm . . . I’ll try my best from tomorrow on, so—tell me something for good luck,” Yuuri said. That sounded so, _so_ stupid.  Yuuri still could not muster his courage to look at Victor’s face.  What if Victor didn’t understand?

 “Sure, I’ll say something you won’t even have to think about,” Victor said.  Yuuri’s eyes widened as he felt Victor touch his right hand. “Tomorrow show me the skating that you can honestly say you liked best.”  Then, Victor slid a golden ring onto _Yuuri’s_ finger.

 Wh—what?  What did it mean?  Where did it come from?  Yuuri’s mind had finally reached its limit for the day.  He couldn’t fully process the meaning behind the ring on his finger that, for all intents and purposes, matched the one he had just given to Victor.  Yuuri merely stared at the ring, shining bright gold in the glow from the cathedral, cold against the skin on his shaking hand.  In his shock, he finally glanced at Victor’s face.

 If it was stupid, if it was all so, _so_ stupid, why was Victor smiling like that?  His smile was soft, sincere.  His bright blue eyes were more open, more unguarded than Yuuri had ever seen them.  What was this feeling?  Happiness?  Hope?  There was nothing stupid about this at all.  Yuuri could feel himself smiling the same smile.  Maybe he really could stay with Victor for—forever: Yuuri let himself finish the sentence for once, this one time.

 Yuuri sighed at the sensation of his glasses sliding over his skin to rest just high enough above his forehead.  Victor’s lips were soft as always, probably from all that Chanel lip balm, and warm, contrasting with the cold air.  His hands were, indeed, shaking, quite a lot actually.  It didn’t last long, thirty seconds, maybe a little longer, but it was deeper, more passionate, more feeling than Yuuri had ever known.  What was different?  What was there that hadn’t been there before?  They were still the same people after all. 

 Hope.  Yuuri knew the answer was hope. . . the kind of hope that lasts forever.


End file.
